Guardian
by Scripta Lexicona
Summary: If Cloud was injured and alone, who would he call to help him? Set between FFVII and Advent Children.


AN: Hey look! I did something for FFVII that isn't at least a little bit crack! The sky is falling, the sky is falling, we must warn the king! :) Anyway, this was a long time coming but I got distracted by other things. It was inspired by The Who's "Behind Blue Eyes" (I know, shocker, right?), so you'll see elements of that. My favorite line is "And if I swallow anything evil, Put your finger down my throat." I don't know why. Please enjoy and let me know if you do.

Disclaimer: So not mine.

* * *

**Guardian**

Cloud dragged his unwilling feet forward, step by step, his sword an unwelcome weight on his back. Fenrir should be around here somewhere, shouldn't it? He'd gotten turned around in the woods but thought he'd straightened out again. That rock formation looked familiar….

He stumbled toward it, flipping around and letting his body fall roughly against it before sliding down to the ground, Tsurugi adding an extra jolt of pain. With a heavy arm he pulled the sword out of its leather cradle, laying it by his side, and took a closer look at the structure he was leaning against. It was actually a shallow den and Cloud struggled fiercely with the haze that was forming in his mind to try and remember if the _was_ the same thing he'd seen before.

His stomach spasmed painfully, interrupting his attempts and he groaned. The inside of his mouth was horribly dry but his forehead was clammy. The fog in his brain was getting worse and Cloud realized – with oddly detached panic – that he was slipping into unconsciousness. He was pretty sure that if he did he wouldn't wake up again.

Just beginning to debate in his mind whether he truly thought that was a _bad_ thing, sudden crunching noises drew his wavering attention and a pair of black boots appeared at the edge of his vision, stopping a couple of feet away. Of course he should look up to see who else was stupid enough to be stuck out here with him but his head wasn't responding properly anymore.

Then the person chuckled softly and a low voice said, "Well, well." Cloud froze, a sudden burst of adrenaline allowing his eyes to go wide and spurring him back into awareness. _Oh … _shit.

Slowly, his eyes traveled up the boots to black leather pants; a long black coat closed with criss-crossing straps over a bare, pale chest; an equally pale face framed with strands of silver, smirking lips; and finally … cold jade eyes.

_How? Why?_ These flashed through Cloud's brain as he felt another pang in his stomach, this one from dread. There was no way he could fight this battle, not in this condition, but what choice did he have? He felt a sudden fury that he was probably going to die for nothing, failing to protect himself, his family and friends, and – most likely – the world. _Again._ Defiantly, he glared his rage at the person standing over him. The man remained unfazed, only widened his smile.

Subtly, Cloud shifted, flexing and tensing the various parts of himself to see what was responding and how. The report he got back was not good. Though the initial rush of adrenaline had been enough to keep him from slipping off into unconsciousness, it hadn't given his waning body much of a boost. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to stand, let alone heft or use his sword. He hadn't taken any materia of course – why would he need it? – so spells were out of the question.

The introspection was halted when Cloud finally noticed that Sephiroth had made no move against him. There was no way he wouldn't have struck by now. What was he waiting for?

"What are you waiting for?" he started to ask aloud, but the angry question was cut off by another sudden gut spasm and he cursed his body for the show of weakness as his eyes clenched shut and his body involuntarily curled in on itself.

"Cloud." He ignored the voice, concentrating on just trying to breathe evenly. A hand suddenly gripped his hair, pulling his head back painfully, forcing him to look into those cold eyes. Dimly, he realized Sephiroth had kneeled down beside him in order to grab him.

"You need to vomit." Whatever he'd been expecting, _that _wasn't it.

"_What_?" He tried to jerk his head out of the iron grip, but the hold was unyielding and his only reward was more pain.

"You were poisoned. You need to vomit and remove it from your system."

Some of Cloud's anger gave way to pure confusion. "Poisoned? What are you talking about? How—" He stopped when Sephiroth put a finger on the hole in his shirt, pushing down lightly. Cloud just managed to suppress a wince. Beneath the hole in his shirt was a hole in his chest. It was a small hole, had hardly bled and was only oozing now, but as he looked down he realized the skin around it was red and inflamed.

"The quill had poison in its tip. It was released when it embedded in your chest. Fortunately for you," – and here Sephiroth smirked again – "it passed through into your stomach. Your little problem is easily remedied if you vomit the poison out."

Cloud's anger rose again and he lashed out, sending a fist at the demon's face. He didn't think it would do any good, really – he just wanted the man _away_. But Sephiroth caught the punch almost as soon as it was thrown and squeezed just shy of painfully. With a hand still in Cloud's hair, Sephiroth used the one that was holding the fist to slowly unclench it. When he'd freed the index finger, he straightened it and began directing it back to Cloud's face.

The blond began to struggle, clenching his jaw and forcing his sluggish muscles into resistance. Sephiroth's expression remained impassive through the feeble attempt but irritation flashed through the green eyes. Without warning, he let go of Cloud's hand and once again used the grip in his hair, dragging the man forward until he was forced to support himself, shakily, on his hands and knees. Then his head was yanked back again and Sephiroth's gloved finger was thrusting past his gasping lips. He gagged almost immediately on the black leather and began to retch. As the bile burned up through his throat and out his yawing mouth he felt the silver-haired man's hold leave him.

It didn't take long to rid himself of the poison and Cloud breathed heavily as he stopped heaving, staring down at the disturbingly dark substance that had left his body. His previously dry mouth was now coated with it and he wished fervently and uselessly for water. Instead he grasped a clean-looking leaf off the ground, chewing it up then spitting it out. It helped, but not much.

Cloud decided to try standing, but even as he pushed himself up onto his knees his body began to shake uncontrollably. It felt as though his body temperature had suddenly plummeted. He curled in on himself, desperately trying to find the slightest bit of warmth as he was wracked with shivers.

A weight settled on his shoulders and wrapped around him. He reached up to feel leather between his fingers then jerked his head up to see the now-bare-torsoed man who was still far closer than Cloud would have liked. He met the penetrating jade eyes with his own hard blues, determined to keep up a strong front. But he couldn't help the shudder, this one of pleasant relief, as the heat from Sephiroth's coat began to seep through his clothes and into his skin. The bright blue orbs dimmed a bit as Cloud's lids lowered, half-closed.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly, now staring at the ground.

"I'm here to help you," was the casual answer.

Ire flared again and he looked back up as he retorted, "You've _never_ helped me."

Lips smiled and lashes obscured the green as he looked down at the blond. "So harsh, Cloud."

"Sometimes the truth is," he bit back. Sephiroth acknowledged the point with a small incline of his head. "How did you get here anyway?" Cloud demanded flatly. "You're supposed to be dead."

"You brought me here." All Cloud could do for a moment was stare at him with incomprehension.

"_I_ brought you here," he finally repeated. "I brought _you_ here, to help me." The sarcastic disbelief was thick in his voice. "If I'm resurrecting dead people, why you? Why wouldn't you be Aerith? Why aren't you Zack?"

Sephiroth crouched down beside Cloud until his face was level with the blond's. "I don't know, Cloud. Why _aren't_ I Aerith?"

_Because I wasn't strong enough_.

"Get away from me," he hissed.

Sephiroth moved closer. "Why aren't I _Zack_, Cloud?" he asked, his voice just barely above a whisper.

_Because I lied._

"Stop saying my name!" he yelled in frustration, again cursing his loss of control. But Sephiroth merely moved again, this time back a few inches, with a small sardonic smile. He tched then added, "Just think. Once you would have been honored that I even _knew_ your name, let alone spoke it."

"That was a _long_ time ago," Cloud bit back. _When my dreams were still possible; when they meant something_. "You ruined everything. You're nothing but a burden now."

"One you won't let go," Sephiroth answered smoothly. Cloud closed his eyes. The words. Always the right words, pushing the right buttons. And he just didn't have the coherence to push back. The shudders were much fewer now that his body was beginning to warm again and he could feel the pull of oblivion once more. Might as well follow it. After all, he had _Sephiroth_ watching over him, didn't he? A bitter, warped chuckle escaped Cloud's cracked, dry lips. His own personal angel to bring him down to complete and utter ruin. Lucidity slipped further and further away and then the angel spoke again.

"So weak. So very small and pathetic. How could you have thought to pose yourself as Zack, Cloud? How could you have thought that any part of you could ever measure up to him?" Anger crested again, this time attended by guilt and his body tightened. Slowly, his eyes opened and dully focused on the pale figure beside him, wrath and exhaustion hazing his vision. But he had no answer, could only glare his hatred silently. Sephiroth didn't seem to require a response, merely sat with his arms loosely wrapped around his knees, staring unblinking through his thick bangs. Cloud met the gaze for as long as he could but it was too intense and he looked away, eyes drawn by the silver mane that pooled like mercury around the black leather. It was such a sharp contrast – the dark leather absorbing all light while the pale locks almost seemed to glow….

Abruptly, Cloud tilted his head and rolled his eyes skyward. The full moon was shining through the open canopy, washing out the stars and dulling the ebony of night to charcoal. When had night fallen? How much time had he lost? Even as he pondered, the light was shadowed by a thick cloud, one of many he finally noticed. _Great_, he thought wryly. Within a few moments a drop struck his cheek, followed by his hair, then his arm, then his lip. Soon his entire body was being gently pounded by the thick rain. At this rate he would probably freeze to death before the lingering effects of the poison could do him in. Cloud made a half-hearted effort to pull himself up and into the shelter of the rock but his muscles still weren't obeying his wishes.

In one fluid movement Sephiroth rose to his feet and approached the huddled blond who attempted to shift away. The man ignored the pitiful struggle and circled to Cloud's back, the smaller man tensing involuntarily. He felt a hand grabbing at his shirt through the coat and then he was suddenly pulled backwards, dragged over the rough ground while the ribbed fabric of his shirt stretched uncomfortably over his frame and exposed his abdomen to the cold rain. By the time he was fully under the cover of the rock shelf he was once again shivering uncontrollably. Sephiroth readjusted the coat, wrapping it more tightly around Cloud, then settled beside him. There was no room in the small space for Cloud to put any distance between them, not that he didn't try.

The wind had been blowing, not quite enough to bother the blond, but now it shifted, bringing the rain into the meager refuge. Cloud sighed and closed his eyes, resigned to the little that he could do to help himself by curling up tight and holding the coat closed, leaving only his head exposed. As such he only felt and heard what happened next. It had the force of an explosion but was accompanied by a rustling rather than a boom. The rain ceased washing his face and now he opened his eyes to see a large black shape curving over his head, blocking the opening. It was a wing, Sephiroth's wing.

Like an infant attracted by a bright object, Cloud reached a hand up and touched the shiny feathers. Perhaps it was because of his weakened state of mind, but Cloud was mesmerized by the sight, captivated by the beauty. Then he suddenly gripped a feather and yanked, pulling it free. The wing twitched though Sephiroth's face showed nothing, simply watching the blond. Cloud twirled it between his fingers, observing its sheen and its perfect shape. Curious, he brushed it over the bare skin of his arm and found it soft, ticklishly so. Something about it resonated in him and he recognized one of those pieces of Zack that he still carried like shrapnel. _Wings … and dreams of flight…._

"They tried to do this to me," he said softly to no response. "They didn't succeed." It was more a question than a statement.

"Didn't they?" Cloud stared at the feather, silent. Then he began deliberately destroying the plume, pulling the barbs off the shaft, letting the pieces flutter to the ground, some landing on his legs. When he was finished he stared down at the torn bits.

"All your dreams of flight, lying in my lap," he murmured vaguely. His mind cast back to that day, so long ago, when Zack stood before them. "There is no honor." Now to Aerith clutching her basket, the only bit of color and life in that oppressed place. "There is no beauty." He turned to Sephiroth, blue eyes seeking out those cat-like aquamarine orbs. "I don't think I can ever forgive you."

"Then you will never move past this," was the calm reply and Cloud quailed inside and realized suddenly how exhausted he was. Carefully, he shifted until he could lie down, still in a fetal position, his back to the silver-haired man. The coat was doing its duty and his body had warmed while the last of the toxin wore off, leaving him tired but no longer in danger of falling permanently into nothingness. A tear slide down his face and then he was asleep.

xXx

Cloud sucked in a hissed breath as he gingerly stretched out his legs and arms, attempting to sit up. His muscles were stiff and every movement brought pain. As he managed to right himself a different kind of pain flared in his chest and he checked the wound he'd received from that damned creature. It looked alright – almost completely healed, the skin its normal porcelain tone. Now Cloud focused on trying to remember what on Gaia had happened to him. He'd been attacked and injured, but ultimately won the battle and continued back to Fenrir. So how did he end up here? How had he lost almost an entire day? Dredging through his murky memories produced only images of colors, silver, black and green. Well, the silver was easy – the moon had been rising bright and early each night lately. And here was the black in front of him – apparently he'd found and shredded some random bird's feather. But the green…. Of course, he was in the middle of a forest but that wasn't it. It was jade, aquamarine, and it glowed. Disturbed, Cloud got to his feet and scanned the area, seeing nothing but Tsurugi lying on the ground just outside the small cave-like formation he'd woken up in. Picking up and sheathing his sword, he looked around again but still there was nothing. Quickly, he made his way to Fenrir, only a short distance away, exactly where he'd left it. Pulling on his goggles, he climbed on, fired up the engine and sped away, never looking back.

Three days later, the geostigma emerged on his arm.

* * *

Originally written 13 May '08


End file.
